So Close
by happyinchintz72
Summary: "A hug delights and warms and charms, that must be why God gave us arms" - A short collection of one-shots that I like to call cuddlefics occuring in very different circumstances. Kurt & Blaine.


**_This is a series of one shots or cuddlefics as I like to call them!_**

**_For those who read my other story, "The Little Things", it is completely unconnected to that and is more in line with current canon :)_**

**_People kept commenting over at my other story that they love the cuddle scenes the best so this idea came to me... a series of fics centred around one of the best things in the whole world._**

**_A/N: This episode IS quite angsty but I promise the others are very different... This came a few weeks ago when they aired Grilled Cheesus in the UK and although I'd already seen it countless times and cried every single time, I found myself watching it when it came on TV both times. It's such a special episode. So, yes that's how this came about. I really hope you enjoy :)_**

**_Big Thanks goes to Aelora for the fabulous beta :)  
_**

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**_~~ A hug delights and warms and charms, that must be why God gave us arms.~~_**

Answering a phone was a simple action that Kurt completed frequently and was usually met with a warm smile, grateful to hear a familiar voice or a strand of news.

This was not one of those instances and was something Kurt wished would stop occurring in his life at sporadic moments in time. Kurt snapped his phone closed, he couldn't move, hands frozen solid and a feeling so hard in his chest. The panic rose, his throat cold and hands beginning to shake. He was alone, of course, the walls of the Dalton common room too imposing to think.

He tried to breathe, eyes prickling already and skin flooded cold. Nothing was in focus anymore though. A fierce shot of anger found his heart and smouldered there, rooted deep causing a second wave of panic. He had to leave.

He threw his Dolce Mac on and slipped his wallet into his coat as he slid his bag over his shoulder. He didn't give a seconds thought to notifying any teachers or tutors, instead he headed straight for the door in an attempt to make an escape. He turned the last corridor, numb but secretly smug with anger that he managed to get that far without intervention when he heard a voice behind him.

"Kurt?"

The one voice he did not want to hear, simply because it was like an anchor, weighing his heart and stopping him dead in his tracks. He couldn't move, he couldn't ignore him and certainly couldn't resist the possibility that he'd provide what Kurt had always dreamed of but never thought possible.

Kurt turned, breathing in deep to stop any tears escaping. He swallowed.

"Blaine," he replied simply, sure that another single word would shatter his resolve.

"Where are you going?"

Kurt took in Blaine's starched attire, preened hair and warm smile. He had been free of the need to think of another before meeting Blaine, he'd been able to just act without consideration of the consequences or what anyone would think. It'd worked so far, providing Kurt with the blind will to strike out and be his own person. He had no other option. He was never going to let anyone break him down but pre-Dalton it had felt like a daily battle between personal will and determination and a solid tirade of hate. It was a losing battle, his insecurities and fear were human but were the perfect weakness for a bully to exploit.

Now there was Blaine. A small rub to the small of Kurt's back, a shared lunch, a conversation steeped in understanding, mutual smiles, semi-flirtatious smirks and a person to answer his call. Blaine Anderson was a mystery but he was one Kurt felt more connected to than he dared admit.

"I need to go home," Kurt said flatly.

Blaine frowned, stepping closer. "Are you ok? Has something happened at home?"

Kurt knew this was the point where he always cut and ran, avoided the other person feeling obliged to pity. He didn't want a repeat of last time, Rachel lighting candles and crooning religious melodies, Mercedes rallying her church to belt out passionate prayers and the constant and almost annoying need to provide a consoling pat. It didn't help. It was appreciated but none of it helped. It wasn't as if they were faced with the terror of losing a parent, their only remaining parent, their only remaining person.

"I'm fine, I just need to go home."

"Do need a ride?"

Kurt felt his heart plead with him to accept the offer. He wanted so badly to reach out and accept someone in to help him, to hold him tightly and maybe whisper precious words to just reduce the pain, even for a moment. He couldn't- there wasn't time.

"I'm fine but thank you," Kurt stated firmly and turned to continue towards the door. He reached the cool air and felt his skin shudder. It was an immediate and welcome distraction.

"Kurt! Hey?" Blaine called, now rushing closer, "has something happened? You seem upset."

"I just need to go home that's all."

As Kurt's hand found the clasp of his car door, Blaine's hand found Kurt's shoulder.

"Hey," he soothed, "if there's something wrong, I can help."

Kurt snapped. "Blaine. I said I was fine, I can handle this." He knew it was unfair, knew exactly how unfairly he was behaving but he truly didn't have time to care. Any second, the walls would drop and he'd sob, he'd crumble and there simply was no room for that when everything around him was crumbling too. He had to be strong- it was all he knew.

Blaine stepped back, nodding, only a slight flicker of hurt in his eyes. "Ok, ok. I just want you to know that if you need someone then I'd like to help."

Kurt looked up again sharply. He went as to speak but, in that moment, Blaine's face softened, his eyes deepening as he dipped his head with a slight reassuring smile. "Look, I'm sorry but this is for me to do alone, Blaine. I appreciate your concern though."

With a nod and a slight frown, Blaine stepped back again. There was hesitancy to his actions and it did not go unnoticed but Kurt turned and climbed into the car, held the steering wheel so hard that his knuckles flashed white and drove away leaving Blaine alone in the gravel driveway.

...

"Oh Kurt," Carole called catching the sight of him approaching up the corridor. As she rushed towards him, wrapping her arms warmly around his shoulders, Kurt didn't move. His spine refused to bend, arms refused to respond and heart denied any warmth from seeping through. He just couldn't.

"How is he?" Kurt asked. He barely recognised the sound of his own voice as it drawled out lacking in any emotion what-so-ever.

Carole wiped at her red rimmed eyes. "He's still the same sweetie. The doctors said they are optimistic, looks like he overdid it but he hasn't showed any signs of coming around yet. He's just lying there and-"

Her voice broke, choking softly. Kurt watched her cry, wiping her eyes and smearing a little mascara over her temple. It was painful to watch but still, he felt nothing. It was a sheer numbness flooded throughout his entire body, unmoving and unrelenting until something changed to relieve it.

"Can I see him?"

Carole nodded with a sniff, motioning towards the correct door.

"He doesn't look good though Kurt, I just want you to be prepared."

Kurt felt a spike of anger. He knew all of that, he wasn't a kid and certainly did not wish to be treated as one. He'd seen death before, known illness and the after effects so he was sure he could sit by his own father, once more, and deal with it. Just.

"Ok," was all he thought to say, before stepping into the curtained door. The room was quite warm, small but still felt stark and clinical. As Kurt's eyes met the bed, he felt a hot tear roll down his cheek and drip off his chin onto his silk scarf, leaving a dark stain. He didn't care. Burt lay still in the centre of the bed, his head tilted slightly to one side, no colour in his cheeks.

Kurt tried to breathe in but his throat choked. He swiftly sat by the bed and straightened the sheets with a purposeful swipe of his palm. They were stiff. Kurt stopped abruptly, mid-preen, and let his head fall into his hands, more hot tears hitting his fingers and sliding through the gaps.

It was happening all-over again. He couldn't bare to sit through days of no news, nothingness and the constant tug of panic in his chest when the phone rang or as someone stepped into the classroom. Burt was all he had, all he believed in, all he cherished and held close. He was the one constant throughout his entire life that never faltered even when times got tough.

The machine by Burt's bed bleeped like white noise as a soundtrack to the sadness. Kurt reached his right hand out and looped his index finger around his father's hand. It was as far as he could manage but the touch was enough. Burt didn't flinch though, he lay still as he had done the last time. It felt like a dream as Kurt simply stared, taking in his father's face and placing on it a smile or a playful scowl. Kurt found himself thinking back to the wedding when Burt had smiled wider than Kurt was sure he'd ever seen before, dancing down the aisle with the goofiest look in his eyes and the worst moves to ever be attempted in public, but it didn't matter. Kurt could see the true happiness in his father's eyes and it was a shock as well as a gift.

"Oh dad," he sobbed out, laying his head down on the starched sheets. He couldn't move again, the numbness taking over. He just remained still, holding tight to Burt's hand and feeling the rise and fall of his father's breathing- he was still breathing, he was still there.

The room closed around him, empty and callously bare. He would stay and fill the space, keep some semblance of life in the room because, if nothing else, Burt would have done the same if tables were turned.

"I'm not going anywhere dad. I promise," he whispered, holding tighter and screwing his damp eyes closed against the rough material, "I won't leave until you wake up. This time I'm staying."

He couldn't help but wonder if this was the final time that this would happen. At some point it would be, but it couldn't be now- it just couldn't. Burt was a character, he was a wise crack joke maker, a goofball, an avid sports lover, a self made mechanic, a friend, a husband... a father.

Kurt didn't realise Carole had entered the room until he felt a heavy hand on his shoulder.

"Sweetie, the doctors need to see him," she murmured, slight and raspy, "come on, we'll wait outside."

Kurt raised his head but couldn't let go. He kept his eyes on his fingers looped inside Burt's bigger ones and began to shudder from his chest outwards.

"No. I want to stay," he stated firmly, closing his grip tighter, eyes never leaving Burt's face.

"We can come straight back in," Carole sighed sympathetically causing Kurt's anger to bubble again, "they won't be long. Come on."

"No," he snapped, "I'm not leaving this time."

Carole glanced pleadingly towards the nurse at the end of Burt's bed. She shook her head, unsure how to respond. "Kurt..."

"It's ok Mrs Hummel," the lady nurse spoke gently, her arm patting delicately to Carole's hand, "your son can stay in the room while we're seeing to Mr Hummel."

"I'm not her son," Kurt spoke monotone, unmoving still.

With a slight sniff, Carole nodded. "He's my step son," she offered dejectedly, "and thank you, I appreciate that."

...

It'd been three hours of constant waiting. The silence seemed normal now but it was the one thing keeping him on edge. A single noise, the squeak of a door or the shuffle of feet sent Kurt's heart pounding with stress, worrying that bed news was on its way and it just couldn't be- he couldn't hear bad news.

He thought back to his mother and the worst year of his life to date. He'd held his father's big burly hands and climbed haphazardly into his lap every evening waiting for a story or to play a game, believing that the man in front of him was truly a hero. Kurt, even as a young boy, could feel the differences between them but it didn't matter as Burt Hummel had enough love to ignore those things. The year Elizabeth Hummel died was the year that their relationship became sacred and every single moment together held a new significance as if they both understood the true meaning of loss now. They'd forgotten over the years at times, Kurt letting down his side of the bargain and Burt the same but they'd never truly let go of that bond between them – they'd gotten through the awkward teenage years and Kurt knew that he was one of the luckiest kids in the world to have a father so willing to try every single day to fight for what existed between them.

The fear came when that existence was threatened. Kurt didn't need anyone outside of it but that didn't mean he didn't want someone after the constant reminders he was given on a daily basis at McKinley. He'd seen Finn tug Rachel to him once, wrapping his strong arms around her, her tiny frame tucking into his chest easily, just as if it'd meant to be there all along. They looked peaceful and Kurt's heart had ached. He wasn't a pathetic mooner- no way was he going to stoop to that level- but there was a void there, so obvious and empty that it was hard to ignore. Nobody had even wanted to step up and fill that void so, as far as Kurt was concerned, he was best off alone and without the baggage and inevitable fall out that came with letting someone else try.

The problem was that he just wished someone would try- just to see what it was like.

"Kurt?"

He turned to find Carole walking slowly down the corridor.

"Is he ok?"

She smiled, small but promising. "He's improving sweetheart but he's not out of danger yet." Her eyes were a raw shade of red, glistened slightly with the remnants of tears. Kurt felt like the worst step son in the world but knew that a single touch would break him completely. "I'm going to collect Finn. Will you be alright by yourself? The nurse is just down the corridor if you need her."

Kurt nodded once and strained his lips to smile. "I'll be fine Carole. You go."

As she reached out, stroking his hair lightly, Kurt felt his throat thicken instantly and swallowed hard. She left but not before petting his hair once more.

The corridor fell silent once more. Kurt studied his fingernails one by one, trying to focus his mind on something, anything.

"Before you say anything, Carole called Dalton and I overheard Mr Preston talking to the Principal."

Kurt snapped his head around at the sudden voice. Blaine. He felt tears rising again but took a slow breath, steadying them as best he could.

"Blaine, I said I was fine. You didn't have to cut class." Kurt turned his focus back to his knee where he smoothed a hand down his dark jeans.

"I didn't," Blaine explained, standing closer but not sitting down yet, "I went to see the Principal and asked if it'd be ok to miss Gym to be there for a friend."

Kurt felt his hand begin to shake. The way Blaine's voice spoke simply but with so much warmth it was almost saturated with it made Kurt sure he couldn't stand it for long. It sent shivers from the base of his spine upwards until they spread evenly, blanketing him slightly. He allowed a glance up to meet Blaine's eyes. They flickered wider and a slow smile followed.

"Can I sit?" Kurt nodded, looking down once more. He wanted to smile back, to show some form of gratitude but he couldn't. The air around had felt cold and alien before Blaine but upon his arrival something had changed. "How is he?" Blaine asked, turning his knees towards Kurt a fraction.

"Same. Slight improvement."

"That's good, right?"

"I guess," Kurt muttered quietly, his voice still abrupt.

"Are you here alone?" Blaine asked, ducking his head to meet Kurt's eyes. Sore red rims lined with damp eyelashes glanced back at him; they were tired but sill the same bright and expectant eyes Blaine had grown somewhat attached to.

"Carole went to collect Finn."

Blaine wanted to reach out and hold Kurt to him. It was natural to want another close to him; he was a creature of affection even sometimes when it was unwanted but something told him to wait, to take it slowly. Kurt was hurting, that was obvious, but he was also proud and Blaine wasn't so incapable of respecting that.

"I'm not going to ask how you are because I know that's not helpful but..." Blaine took a slow breath, letting his hand tentatively rest on Kurt's elbow, "if you need anything then I'm... I'm here." Kurt felt the shaking in his stomach travel to his chest and to the tips of his fingers. It was uncontrollable. He screwed his eyes shut and forced every muscle to respond- they had to stop.

"Kurt..."

Blaine's voice was balmy and soft, so soft. Kurt felt his lips tremble and it was no use, he simply couldn't do it anymore.

Blaine couldn't help but break his promise. He watched Kurt's cheeks glisten with what he was sure were new tears, his body seemed rigid but his fingers were quivering in his lap. Blaine watched them rise in a fist and rest against his forehead in some misguided attempt to hold everything in. It was like looking in the mirror sometimes that it felt scary to witness another person falling apart so hauntingly in front of his eyes. He hadn't known loss or worry like Kurt was obviously going through but he knew the inner struggle to suppress a tirade of emotion from erupting- that he was an expert at.

"He's everything..." Kurt stammered out, his eyes still tightly closed.

Blaine moved without a second's thought. He let his right hand rest against the back of Kurt's head and drew him close. The height difference didn't help but somehow appearances weren't relevant because all Kurt needed was someone- anyone- to cut through whatever turmoil was tangling up his brain. Kurt didn't respond for a good minute, still shaking lightly and rigidly held together but as Blaine began stroking tiny circles on his back, he felt Kurt's shoulders lower and his head dip to rest against his own neck.

"You're not alone, Kurt," Blaine soothed, his hand finding the nape of Kurt's neck and settling there, providing the smallest amount of comfort.

Kurt felt arms wrap themselves slowly around his waist, joining at his hip and locking in place. They held tight. It was miraculous how the warmth from Blaine clouded his brain and sent his eyelashes fluttering closed, so miraculous that Kurt felt hot tears escape rapidly, flooding the material of Blaine's sweater.

"I'm sorry," he tried, his hand rising to wipe the dark patches that began to appear, "it's cashmere so-"

"Shhhh," Blaine urged with a fond smile, his arms pulling tighter as Kurt eventually settled into them with a sigh so deep it almost broke Blaine's heart.

Kurt closed his eyes once more. It was enough- more than enough- and he hadn't even asked for it. He thought of his father lying in the adjacent room and felt fresh tears fall with a small choked noise but the arms around him simply pulled him closer and suddenly the tears weren't only out of sadness, they were out of gratitude.

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**_Next Time: Apparently drunk Blaine is cuddly Blaine._**


End file.
